“Why! what do you suppose the squirrels and the rabbits and all the other woodsy things do for towels and soap?” demanded Tess, briskly. “I guess water’s _clean_; it’ll wash you.” “And our teeth-brushes, Tess?” Tess overcame even that seemingly insurmountable difficulty. After they had found the brook—a quiet brown pool beside the road—and had bathed their faces and hands, Tess broke a twig and chewed the end to a brush-like swab, and so brushed her teeth thoroughly. Dot followed her example, and laughed. “We are two wild girls,” she declared. “We haven’t any home—nor anything. That is, for a little while,” she added, rather doubtful as to how this new game would “pan out.” “Why, when our clothes wear out we’ll have to make new ones. And for Alice, too.” “How?” asked Tess, in turn curious. “What out of?” “Oh, we’ll weave new dresses out of grass and leaves, and trim them with flowers,” declared the smallest girl, gaily. “Well, so we could,” agreed Tess, catching fire from her sister’s enthusiasm. “Of course. And shoes——” “Oh, I know!” Tess cried. “We’d find rushes beside the pond and weave basket-work sandals to wear ‘stead of shoes. And we might weave hats—like the Chinese do. And we’d build ourselves a house, and thatch it all over to keep the rain out—” Dot had suddenly grown silent and allowed Tess to do all the talking. Tess looked at the smallest Corner House girl quickly. Dot’s lips were puckered into a pout and her dark eyes were filling rapidly. “What is the matter now, dear?” Tess asked, tenderly. “Do—don’t let’s talk about it any more,” choked Dot. “Besides, I’m hungry.” Tragedy stalked into the situation right then and there. They had no more imagination to waste upon the supposed life of a “wild girl.” The principal question was: How were two little girls, fast becoming “wild,” to eat? They were walking along the road again when Tess suddenly spied something which brought a cry of delight from her lips. “Look! Look, Dot!” she said. “What’s on those bushes?” The bushes in question overhung the bank above their heads. “Oh, Dot! aren’t those blueberries?” the older girl added. “Of course they are, Tess Kenway,” agreed her sister. “My, I could eat just bushels of ’em.” They scrambled up the bank and climbed the wall. Not only was there this clump of berry bushes which they had first sighted; but back of the wall was a great field, rocky and barren otherwise, but a fine berry pasture. Farther out where the sun shone, the berries were larger and more had ripened. The little girls went on and on, picking the berries in handfuls and actually cramming them into their mouths. They were very hungry. Their fingers and lips became stained; and if the truth were told some of the crushed berries left stains upon their mussed frocks as well as upon their faces. They reached the farther end of the field before they realized that they were so far from the road.